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I ask for a momento indulgence to sit by themes only for a very little while". The works that I have in hand I will finishall aftowars. Away from the look of thy face my heart Knows no resta respite and my becomes an endless toil in a shoreless work sea of task, at my windor Today the summer has come at with its balny sighs and marmars, and the busare playing their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove. Now it is time to sit quietly face to face, and to sing dedication of life in this silent and overflowing lioure. 39
